


Hallelujah

by Miss_Psychotic



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Psychotic/pseuds/Miss_Psychotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Remember when I moved in you<br/>and the holy dove was moving too<br/>and every breath we drew was<br/>Hallelujah”</p><p>The abridged telling of James and Q's relationship over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is.  
> was listening to Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley and the lyrics just stuck in my head and just.  
> Unbeta'd.  
> all mistakes are my own.  
> I do not own any of the characters, not making a profic blah blah usual disclaimer crap.  
> feedback is love.

_“Remember when I moved in you_

_and the holy dove was moving too_

_and every breath we drew was_

_Hallelujah”_

It wasn’t always like this. Q wouldn’t always have that frown crinkling his forehead. James’ eye wouldn’t always look so hollow. As it stands though the time of secret smiles, knowing looks and sly grins was over.

Break ups are always hard, harder still when you still have to work and maintain professionalism with your ex.

For Q, he knew he was going to get his heart broken, knew it going in, but he had himself fooled that he could change James Bond’s nature. Stupid, stupid boy.

James had never meant to let it get so far, never meant to let Q fall for him, never meant to fall for Q, but it had happened. The Agent had fallen in love with his Quartermaster and then failed him.

There was a time before all the drama when James stopped going to his own flat and just turned up at Q’s door, dirty, bleeding and in need of a shower and a decent night’s sleep, all of which Q so graciously offered without question.

Then it evolved, sharing meals over a tech laden table, soft smiles in the morning, a crick in James’ neck from the damn couch, until the night Q crossed the line and let him into his bed.

_“James?” Q whispered, voice soft, quite in the sill night air._

_The field agent stirred instantly. “Hmm?”_

_“Aren’t you sick of that couch?”_

_“Are you kicking me out?”_

_“No, come to bed,”_

_“Q…”_

_“Bed, 007, that’s an order,”_

_A soft smile, a nod and a blissful night’s sleep, warm and comfortable, skin against his own._

James accepts his radio and new PPK from his former lover, the bruise and swelling over Q’s left cheek has gone down substantially in the last few days. James still hates how the colour looks on him, hates the twist and clench of his stomach at the sight of it.

“Good luck, please return the equipment in one piece,” The Quartermaster says softly, quiet and demure, as if his bright sassy attitude had been beaten out of him. That’s right, it had.

_“James?” Q frowned blinking his eyes open._

_“I’m here,” He whispered exiting the bathroom after his shower, he was surprised the younger man hadn’t woken earlier._

_“Are you alright?” Q asks reaching for his glasses._

_James beats him to it, taking the hand in his own._

_“I’m fine, just needed a shower, am I still welcome?” He questioned, he hadn’t spent much time in Q’s bed but he’d like to amend that._

_“Always,” Q smiled brilliantly at him and wriggled over to make room._

_James grinned back and flicked off the light, sliding between the sheets, pulling Q close, skin sliding against skin until they were pressed together._

_“She was pretty,” Q whispered into the darkness._

_“She wasn’t you,” James replied instantly._

_“Did you wish it was?”_

_“Every moment,”_

James doesn’t even look back once he accepts the gadgets, just nods and heads out the door. Who knows maybe this will be the mission that kills him? It might be better that way, for him or for Q he isn’t quite sure yet.

The mission goes will, James returns all his items to Q’s desk without even meeting the man’s eyes and leaves for debrief.

Q doesn’t cry.

_“Please,” He whispers it like a prayer._

_Months it had taken for them to get here._

_“James, please?” Q begs._

_They’re in bed again, naked and pressed together, the older man’s lips against the younger neck, soft reverent touching, mapping the long lines of his throat._

_“James, kiss me,” He says simply and the agent can’t resist._

_It’s hesitant, soft, sweet, neither knowing how far the other is willing to go, worrying that if they push too hard the other will leave._

_It doesn’t happen, they spend hours kissing and kissing, hands softly mapping each other’s bodies._

_There are no orgasms that night, just gentle unhurried kissing until they can’t stave off sleep any longer._

It takes them almost a year of their nightly routine before they build up momentum and Q flushes, his cheeks bright red as he asks James to fuck him for the first time.

_“Breathe, I won’t hurt you,”_

_“I know – Ah James!”_

_“Q!”_

It builds up, over time a year, maybe more before they’re both so accustomed, so attuned to the others body that they can love and be loved physically in a way no one else has dared to before. It’s not sex, it’s not fucking, and it’s far too spiritual to be love making but it’s theirs.

_“God, James,” Q gasps, laying flat on his stomach, a pillow tucked under his hips._

_“Mmm,” James replies, lips still peppering his shoulders and upper back with feather light kisses as he rocks his hips slowly back and forth, deep grinding, slowly building up to more luxurious thrusts._

_Q’s hands are up either side of his head, bracing himself, James’ hands on top, fingers clenched and entwined with them, the entirety of his front plastered to the back of Q as he slowly, lovingly moved inside of his lover._

_“James. James, oh, please,” Q begs, voice breathy, light._

_James grunts his reply and slams his hips to Q’s ass, roughly jarring the boy against the bed. “Better?”_

_“Yes!” Q moans, arching his back and pressing his behind up and out for better access like a cat in heat._

_“Please James, do it, please I need it,” He groans and is cut off by another sharp thrust, a whine leaving his throat._

_It’s awkward in this position, James not wanted to let go of Q’s hands but he does so and moves his weight back onto his knees, pulling Q’s hips up to a better angle and slamming in home again, watching the way Q’s head hands forward and his hands clench the bed sheets._

_“Like this?” The older man asks, picking up the pace and viciousness of his thrusts until Q is crying out on every second stroke, desperately clutching the sheets gasping and panting, chanting “James! James! James!” over and over like a prayer._

_It doesn’t last much longer, they’re both so worked up, James thrusting in deep and holding as his climax takes him, reaching down to tug at Q’s erection until the pillow is no longer able to be slept with._

_He stays inside the younger man, pulls the pillow out and away and encourages the boy to lay down, spooning until they sleep, James still nestled inside his Quartermaster._

 

They knew it was a bad idea, the whole of MI6 could see what was happening between the two of them, it didn’t take long for their enemies too as well.

_“If you harm a single hair on his head-“_

_“What Mr Bond? What will you do?” They taunted to the man tied to a chair._

_Q wasn’t given much field training, he knew basics on blocking out pain and sticking to your cover story but not much more._

_“Tell me, Q, what are the access numbers?”_

_“I don’t know them,” He said and received a back hand across the face._

_James flinched in his chair, itching to break free and protect Q._

_“You will tell me,” They smiled at the Quartermaster, as they reached for the miniature blow torch, “One way or another,” They grinned._

It had taken 6 weeks for Q to return to active duty and James had protested it. As it was James’ was up for retirement, there was only so many wounds he could gather, so many deaths he could come back from before his body gave in, and apparently 45 was it. M was forcing his retirement in 3 weeks.

Q had point blank refused to leave his post and James couldn’t persuade him, they ended things, James finished his last few missions and walked out of MI6, never to return.

_“You’re both idiots,” She told him._

_“Thank you Eve,” Q deadpanned._

_“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”_

_“I don’t know,”_

_“Q,”_

_“7 months, 11 days and 14 hours,” Q replies with a sigh. “Why have you spoken to him?” He asks, bitter jealousy clouding his tone._

_“Yes, he misses you,”_

_“Then he can damn well pick up a phone,” The Quartermaster huffs. Or come home, is implied._

_“You know it’s not that easy for him,” Eve tried to explain._

_“I do,” Q concedes._

_“Maybe it’s for the best?”_

_“Maybe,”_

 

It’s not until James is 47 that he returns to London. Q is still head of Q-Branch, Mallory is still M, and it seems nothing really has changed.

Except Q has a girlfriend now, smart, funny and a field agent of MI6.

James doesn’t go and say hello, he waits in Eve’s apartment and they fall into bed.

He leaves as soon as she falls asleep.

Eve doesn’t say anything to Q the next day, but he sees the mark on the back of her neck and knows. Something coils in the pit of his stomach and he has to leave the room, heading to the closest male bathrooms and picking the end stall to hide in, he has to take off his glasses to catch the tears before they can spot his cardigan.

He should have known.

James is waiting for him when he gets home that night.

_“I knew you’d come back,”_

_“I’d like to say I’m glad nothing’s changed but we both know it’s a lie,”_

_“What did you want me to do? Wait around for you to come back? You left and I didn’t think you’d ever be back,”_

_“I waited for you,” James says softly._

_“Eve’s neck disagrees,”_

_“I came home and someone else was in my bed,” James said softly, just a hint of an edge to it._

_Q froze._

_“It’s not your bed anymore,” His voice wavered._

_“I want it back,”_

_“You can’t have it back, you broke it! You broke it and left it, it had to rebuild itself and move on.” Q hissed._

_“Q,” James breathed softly._

_“I think you should leave,”_

_A single tear ran down the younger man’s face, more threatened to follow._

_James burned with the need to reach out and brush it away._

_“I won’t bother you again,” He muttered turning to leave._

_“I’m sorry,” Q whispers to his back, tears falling freely now._

_“I’m sorry I could be what you needed,”_

_“I’m sorry we ended up like this,” James countered and closed the door firmly behind him._

The days and weeks and months and years went on. Q and his girlfriend broke up, he got another one, then a boyfriend and then settled into single life.

On James’ 50th Birthday Q had a package sent to his home. James smirked at the bottle, the note read. “Scotch as old as yourself, happy birthday old man,”

James laughed and grabbed his coat and the bottle.

He was headed to Q’s flat.

 


End file.
